What Should Have Been
by TheWhittiePhantom
Summary: It was only a matter of time before someone spotted Harrison Wells-a man who should be dead-and started asking questions. Post 2x15
1. Chapter 1

One did not have to be a dedicated foodie to be able to match a region with its food. Beachy Californians took advantage of their enviable weather to produce and consume fruits and vegetables year 'round and sneer at everyone else who wasn't as healthy. The South rolled their eyes at Florida's fusion dishes over tables groaning under the weight of cream pies, collared greens, and jugs of syrupy sweet tea.

The Midwest stood out, thought Dr. McGee, as she slid into the vinyl booth of one of Central's many diners, because it went out of it's way not to stand out. The Midwest liked to keep things simple, and their food reflected it. Hamburgers, potatoes, steak, and hearty bread could be found even at the swankiest restaurant. While the sameness of it all sometimes got on the London-raised doctors nerves, she did have to admit that it was nice to know that she could go anywhere and be served comfort food, and she needed that, today of all days.

First, Palmer Technologies called to inform her that they were no longer interested in backing any of Mercury's projects, contrary to what thier previous CEO had wanted. Then, the head scientist working on the tachyon project quit without warning. Finally, the idiots living next to her decided to throw a loud, obnoxious party, killing any chance of a peaceful evening.

After the waiter took her order, a sudden influx of noise caused her to look up briefly. A mixed group of young adults had come in and deciding to take temporary residence three booths down.

Initially, she ignored them. She refused to age into a joy-sucker. Then one of the howls of laughter struck a very familiar chord and she craned her neck to see why.

Ah. Dr. Snow.

Her former employee was shaking with laughter at something her co-worker had said. As someone in the know with the tragedy that had struck her early in life with the death of her husband, Dr. McGee was glad to see her enjoying herself.

She recognized the young man next to her—CSI Allen. Although she was aware of his connection to S.T.A.R. Labs, she hadn't been aware that he was on grabbing-a-bite-to-eat terms with the scientists there. She had no idea who the young hispanic male across from her was, or the young brunette teenager who seemed a little young to be working at a research facility was, though.

A minute more of chit-chat passed before a fry was tossed at a previously unseen fifth member of the party. He was slouched in the corner of the booth, and clad in black, which explained why she hadn't seen him earlier. He ate his food mechanically, and shied away from the group. The man's black baseball cap prevented her from seeing his face, but his reason for even attending the little social gathering was unknown, seeing as it was clear that he felt out of place and awkward.

Was she analyzing the relationships of people she tangentially knew? Yes, but sue her;she was bored and a tad nosy as a matter of course. they left.

Dr. McGee didn't catch anything after that. She didn't catch how Jessie playfully jumped onto Barry's back, or how Caitlin dropped an ice cube down Cisco's back, or the ensuing girly scream that followed.

All she saw was the man who stood up out of the booth. Earlier it was impossible to make out his features, obscured by the shadows as they were, but now...now…

There was no doubt about it. The man in black was Dr. Harrison Wells.

….

She had gone home directly after that. Initially, she considered following them, but then good sense had taken over and she saw all of the things that could go wrong in a confrontation where she was out numbered.

So she had gone home, and promptly went to her bed to lay down on top of it and think about it all with a rational, cool head. After a few minutes, it was decided that her thoughts would never be organized until she wrote them down. The cool, familiar weight of her personal notebook made her feel a bit better, and once she started writing, it seemed as if the ink coming out of the pen couldn't keep up.

Things I Know 

The man at the diner was Doctor Harrison Wells.

Harrison Wells was supposed to be dead, but clearly wasn't.

He had implicated himself in the death of Nora Allen

Things I Think I Know 

He was connected to the Man in Yellow that terrorized Central the previous year

STAR helped him fake his death

Things I Need to Know

How was he alive?

Why would Barry Allen eat dinner with his mother's murderer?

Why would he so publicly confess to a crime on video, if, for some reason or another, he didn't do it?

What was going on at STAR Labs?

Writing it all down made it all feel more real, somehow. Before, she had simply seen something she couldn't explain. Now, she had something akin to a plan, questions that she could answer now that they had been articulated.

With that in mind, she fell into a restless sleep.

…

The next morning, she did something that she hadn't done in twelve years.

She called in sick.

She couldn't go to work, not yet. Not until she had satisfied her questions.

The police were out of the question. Barry Allen worked there, and so did his foster father, Joe West. They had dismissed her when she claimed to have seen him breaking into her lab, which, in hindsight, made it clear that they were covering for him. Instead, she spent the good part of her morning scouring the internet. Article after article was pulled up, thoughtfully digested, then dismissed with the red X. Although they were informative, they didn't tell her anything she didn't already know.

She found her first lead in the last place she would have expected to find anything. It was a mobile app, for heaven's sake, dedicated to gathering metahuman sightings around Central. The app was flood with pictures of the Geomancer, a tall blonde male wearing a strange metal cap, and Central's most famous resident, the Flash.

What interested her, though, was a single picture buried under a mountain of others. It was of poor quality, taken months ago, around Christmas, of a man standing with a remote in what looked like a suburban neighborhood. Even though he wasn't facing the camera, the man was without a doubt, Dr. Harrison Wells.

She ignored the submitter's caption that railed on about body snatchers and zoomed in on the address of the house in the background, then typed it into Google Maps.

Less than fifteen minutes away. Hmmm.

She printed out a photo of Harrison that had appeared on the back of his autobiography, then swiftly pulled her coat over her clothes. She was going to investigate.

…..

Theman whose house had been caught in the background was a dead end. He had been passed out drunk on eggnog Christmas night and knew nothing. His neighbors had either refused to come to the door for fear that she was trying to sell them something, or told her politely that they remembered nothing about the previous Christmas except for the presents that had literally flown out their door only to be sucked into a wormhole in the sky. One man seemed very peeved when the subject of the presents came up, explaining that the stupid little thing had broken a window on its way out.

Finally, she knocked on the house directly across the street from where the photo had been taken. The man who answered the door looked as if he just wanted to lay down somewhere and never get up, but patiently bore her question before turning around and yelling into the house for Mary, who was presumably his wife.

A perky woman with a blonde pixie cut came to the door, looking vaguely confused but pleasant with a eight year old trailing her.

The man, Mr. Timothy gestured for her to show his wife Harrison's photo. "Isn't that the man who showed up here on Christmas?"

Dr. McGee's hands began to shake in excitement. Maybe this venture hadn't been a complete waste.

The mom barely needed to glance at the photo. "Yep. That's the guy. Showed up on our doorstep, and told little Archie here that he, 'Needed his toys. All of them.' Creep."

The husband then took over the story, clearly having told it many times. "Then a present that we had gottenfor Archie from the mall Santa just flew out of here! No wheels, no propulsion, nothing!"

She thanked them for the information, then left her thoughts to ruminate in her head. A quick search on her phone brought up the presents that all the neighbors had spoken of. At Christmas, the Weather Wizard and the Trickster had been seen publicly beating the Flash to death, and only stopped with a stream of presents had flown into the sky. Police had searched for a correlation between the two events but had rapidly come to the conclusion that the only person who could answer that was The Flash, and he didn't exactly talk to the police.

Was the Flash involved somehow? Had STAR Labs, Barry, and Harrison somehow worked some form of a deal? If so, such an arrangement would benefit all parties involved. STAR Labs could rid itself of a CEO with a terrible baggage, but keep Harrison's brain, Barry would have a scapegoat to get his father out of prison, and Harrison could escape the public eye. He didn't have any relatives that would suffer from his confession of murder.

Still, something was nagging at her. Something was missing.

Without knowing why she searched details of Nora Allen's murder. It seemed to be the crux of everything.

Then she found it, the detail that she had read without really remembering it.

A young Barry Allen had claimed to see his mother being murdered by a man in a yellow suit, a man that could move faster than the eye could see, a man covered in lightning. A man like the Flash, fourteen years before the Flash had made his first appearance. A man matching the description of the man who had attacked her and threatened to kill her and had stolen her tachyon prototype all those years ago.

Her fingers flew across the handheld screen faster than the software could keep up. Had no one made this connection? Certainly Barry must have said something. Unless...Unless he had plenty of reason to keep quiet or had bigger plans. He must have known that no court would release his father based on sightings of a man that matched the description of a traumatized eleven year old.

Somehow, Barry must have worked out a deal with Harrison to fake his death. She would bet her entire company that Barry Allen was the one that had reported his death.

That left the Flash. Somehow he played into this entire situation.

Barry, in all probability, would not talk to her about this. Neither would Detective West. As more pieces of the puzzle fell into place, it was increasingly looking like a situation that was best left alone.

However, she knew in her heart of hearts that she couldn't leave this alone. Harrison had broken into her facilities, and she had been targeted by the man in yellow twice. She had no reason to believe that it wouldn't happen again.

That, and she wanted to talk to Harrison. Actually talk to him. Ever since the accident, they had drifted apart.

She wanted to talk to the man who she had met in the lab after he set the _fire blanket_ on wanted to talk to the man whom she had driven to his first date with Tess after a few jocks let air out of his tires. She wanted to talk to the man who made her watch Back to the Future in exchange for help with her language arts paper.

Barry seemed to be too personally connected to this. But the Flash didn't seem to be. She didn't know how to contact him, but she knew who did.

After less than a moment's hesitation, she lifted her phone to her ear and punched in a number that she used whenever she needed to set a news conference for Mercury Labs.

"Central City Picture? Hello. May I speak to Iris West?"

* * *

 _Author's Note:_

 **YOU LOVELY MONSTER. You know how much of a sucker I am for Wells and his adorable past. )8C ~Mumble**

 _I Try. For all the times that Harry goes out (like in Gorilla Warfare) or its implied (The Reverse Flash Returns) it amazes me that someone hasn't seen him. Well, other than Patty. Then again, this is the city that didn't notice King Shark strolling through the city other than a few scattered reports. Anyway, this'll probably have a part two, and then be done. -Whitter_


	2. Chapter 2

"Curse you, spellcheck," murmured Iris under her breath as she instructed the computer to accept the spelling of one of the witnesses names. Ten more minutes until break. Ten more minutes until break. Ten more minutes until she could get a quick coffee and maybe an early lunch. If she could just get this article finished before then…

The phone rang.

Silently cursing her bad luck, Iris lifted the phone to her ear, taking a minute to remind herself that snapping at callers with terrible timing was not encouraged.

"Hello?"

"Is this Miss West?"

Well, the british accent was a surprise. "This is she."

"My name is Dr. Christina McGee. This may seem like an odd request, but I was wondering if there was anyway that you could contact the Flash through your blog? It's extremely urgent that I talk to him."

Typically, Iris tended to deal with these calls with a bit of misdirection and a quick hang-up, but the doctor's name gave her pause. Mercury Labs hadn't exactly been kept out of Barry's Flash business. Eobard had paid the laboratories a visit more than once. There was a very good chance that this was more than the typical annoying caller who wanted to meet the Flash. After a beat of hesitation, Iris answered, choosing her words carefully. "If you don't mind me asking, can you give a hint about what you want me to tell him?"

On the other end of the line, Dr. McGee didn't say anything. On one hand, she wanted to keep the conversation that she wanted to have with the Flash private. On the other, if she didn't give Miss West a satisfactory answer, she may never get to have that conversation.

Ever since the digital age came rushing in on a tide of zeroes and ones, new social skills had to be learned. One had to figure out how to read between the lines of text, to get a reading off someone without being in their presence. In the following bit of silence, Dr. McGee tried to get an impression of Iris based on what little she knew about her.

Her father, Detective West, seemed very capable at what he did, and Barry had a very genuine air about him. She had lost her fiance recently, but seemed to be doing fine for herself. To be honest, she knew very little about her—not enough to make a judgement. But she had been discreet about the Flash's activities if her blog was anything to go by—quite a few of the details that could have led to serious hints about the Flash's identity were omitted. And if there was anything Dr. McGee appreciated in a reporter, it was one who could be discreet.

"It's about Dr. Harrison Wells," she finally bit off. "I need to speak with The Flash about Dr. Harrison Wells."

Iris responded without hesitation. "I'll see what I can do."

…

"Busted," intoned Cisco in a sing-song tone around a mouthful of muffin crumbs, in complete contrast to the somber tone in the cortex.

Iris had immediately called Barry, who had rushed out of the back door of the precinct to break the news to the gang. Caitlin was all for spilling—she liked Dr. McGee and advocated that if they didn't tell her, then she would just keep digging and eventually either get the wrong version of the story, or go to the police about the issue. Harry, for once, wanted no part of the issue, even though it was clear that everything would eventually come down to him, and it was his anonymity on the line. Jessie had long since settled on confusion.

"Why _aren't_ we telling Aunt Tina the entire story?"

Barry, who had been dunking a calorie bar into a cup of coffee to soften it up, nearly choked. "Waitwaitwaitwaitwait...Dr. McGee is your aunt? Seriously?"

Harry shot him a long suffering look. "I married her sister."

"But, Dr. McGee's an only child" said Caitlin, who had become the group's unofficial Dr. McGee expert.

"On this earth, yes. My... wife doesn't exist on this earth. I checked. Besides, even if she did, she didn't marry me, she wouldn't have been my wife, or even the same person, " he said, the raspiness in his voice increasing, in an unsuccessful bid to hide the slight crack in his voice.

Dead silence. There was really no way to answer that. Even Cisco knew that this was not a joking matter.

Finally, Barry spoke up. "All we've done in talk in circles. We need to come to a decision right now. Do we contact Dr. McGee, and if we do, how much do we tell her?"

…..

Iris never called back, and Dr. McGee had long gone back to her house. Miss West probably got several calls about meeting the Flash, and most likely ignored all of them.

There was a knock on the door. Three researchers had already stopped by, wanting her to sign papers authorizing the movement of certain parts and this was probably the fourth that had already called ahead to say he was coming.

Before she could even swing the door open fully, something grabbed her and the entire world became a blur.

Central City Picture had interviewed several people who had been carried by The Flash. Some claimed that it was like they had simply been teleported. Other said like it was like they were traveling through a tunnel of light and displaced sounds. One very bitter source from Star City who had never been asked by anyone other than a thoroughly amused vigilante had said that if anyone asked him one more time what being carried by the Flash felt like, he would puke all over their shoes too.

Dr. McGee felt like she agreed with the second source. The colors blurred, and any sound was able to make out around the roaring of the wind didn't seem to have any sort of context. And then, after a few seconds, everything stopped.

She was in front of STAR Labs.

The man in red next to her, the Flash, made an "after you," gesture and waved her in through the front door.

The minute The Flash had grabbed her, Dr. McGee had decided to just go with the flow—a choice of action she didn't normally take. However, even her resolve to let things unfold for themselves didn't take away from the sheer oddness of the entire situation. She was walking through the abandoned hallways of her former—present?—former rival's company next to The Flash, who was calmly striding next to her. She knew that the Flash and STAR labs were connected.

Next to her, Barry was freaking out, and trying to mask it with a face of confident composure. After a few more minutes of discussion, they had come to a group decision to tell Dr. McGee everything. First, they just decided to tell her about Dr. Wells. Then Caitlin pointed out that Dr. McGee had already connected to the Flash, and probably the Reverse-Flash's connection to Barry's case, which meant that just answering questions about Dr. Wells would lead to lots of unanswered questions. In the end, they just elected to tell Dr. McGee everything. Then they had debated over how to tell her. Most of the people who were in on the secret had either been in on the secret from the very beginning or had figured it out on their own. Linda and Eddie had been told out of necessity. This would be the first time where someone would be voluntarily told without there being an immediate threat.

It was odd.

Finally, after the walk that seemed to never end, Barry and Dr. McGee enteredthe brightly lit cortex.

…

The minute Barry had left, a fight had broken out between the rest of the team, something that had happened more often than Barry was aware of. Should everyone be in the Cortex when Dr. McGee came? Should it just be Harry? Should Harry hide until they called him to come out? Did it really matter at all?

By the time Barry got back, the fight was in full swing. Caitlin had not seen the point, and had elected to just scoot quietly to her workstation and try to get some work done, Jessie following suit. Harry had thought that where he was sitting was fine, there was no need for him to move, _stop moving my chair Cisco._ Cisco was of the opinion that maybe Harry shouldn't be front and center, and that they didn't have to throw Harry at Dr. McGee as the opening act, and _that if chairs had wheels, they were meant to be moved._

It was this scene that Dr. McGee walked in on.

Barry surveyed the fiasco. "Nice."

Dr. McGee didn't hear him. Her eyes were fixed on Dr. Wells, who looked exactly as she had last seen him, except for the wheelchair of course. There was something different about him though, the way he carried himself, maybe. She couldn't put her finger on it.

He met her stare with his customary unwavering gaze. So different from the kindly, understanding gaze that she remembered from college or the calculating one that had come after the accident. This one was a simple, matter of fact stare that gave off an unfamiliar vibe to it. Like they were strangers again.

"Hello, Tina."

* * *

 _I am a liar. A dirty, rotten liar. This will end up being a three parter. My bad, my , you can tell how hungry I am when I write these things baed on how many scenes where there is food.-Whitter_

 **You say that like that's a bad thing. As in the longer ride, not the food thing. xD Go eat something before you die; we need chapter three and I don't wanna have to ouija the whole over-1k-word-long thing out of you. -Mumble**

 _LOL-Whitter_


	3. Chapter 3

**I know, I know. This took forever. I suck. In my defense, I've had to get a lot of "life stuff" in line for when I move cities in a few months. *Screams* Mumble, we'll be apart! *sob***

In retrospect, there were better ways that the situation could have been handled.

After Harry had rather dramatically greeted Dr. McGee, there was a long silence. Clad in his customary black, as if in constant mourning for what his life had become, Harry stared down Dr. McGee with his arms folded in a defiant stance, willing her to do something.

Dr. McGee's face gave away nothing. No shock, no betrayal, nothing. Her features remained blank for what seemed to be an eternity. The tension in the room was thick enough to cut, the silence deafening.

It wasn't until Barry started to feel lightheaded that he realized that he hadn't been breathing. His rather noisy exhalation of air didn't quite dispel the tension, but merely lowered the amount in the room enough so that the mood could be labeled, "Very uneasy."

While running out of the room was probably the cowards way out, Barry couldn't deny how tempting it was. Just run and hide in a nuclear bunker for a few weeks in Switzerland until this entire situation disappeared.

With a sigh he stopped eyeing the oh so lovely exit and pulled out one of the chairs from across the cortex and offered it to Dr. McGee. Cross-earth awkward situations did not excuse bad manners.

Dr. McGee gave him a small nod of thanks as she took the chair. As she sank into it, everyone else besides Harry relaxed and took it as their cue to sit down.

Caitlin had spent the most amount of time with Dr. McGee, and therefore, was able to read her a little better than anyone else in the room. On top of that, out of all of Team Flash, she was easily the most empathetic, and was able to see what no one else did. She saw that Barry latched onto the fact that Harry was a father first, and a scientist second, which wasn't exactly surprising, if one thought about Barry's unending daddy issues. When Eobard died, Barry lost a father figure, despite all that Eobard had done to ruin his life. Then his biological father left him within hours of getting out of prison. Harry represented what Barry, on some unconscious level, had wanted: a returned father figure.

Cisco had probably done the best job at separating Eobard from Harry. Harry did not pretend to be a pseudo father to Cisco. He did not even attempt to get along with Cisco. However, as the limited lab space forced Harry to play nice and forced Cisco to stop baiting Harry as much, their relationship developed into something different. While Barry had more or less adopted Harry as yet another honorary father figure, Cisco viewed Harry as a frenemy. Both had grown to respect each other, but Cisco would never see Harry as he had seen Eobard; indestructible, all-knowing, and a mentor that could do no wrong. Until, you know, he found out he was the Reverse Flash. He saw Harry as a flawed, screwed up, and above all else, a human being.

Caitlin knew that Thawne's actions prevented Harry from ever having a relationship that was a clean slate, and Dr. McGee probably would try to fit this Harry into her pre-existing schema. Though, the more she tried to look at Harry from a newcomer's standpoint, the more she saw the differences between Harry and Eobard-as-Wells that Dr. McGee's clinical gaze was clearly picking up on.

Harry had no lack of presence. Every time he moved you could clearly see the man that jumped _into a freaking wormhole_ on the off chance that he could save his daughter. She saw someone who without a second thought cast off his normal suits, lab coats, company, his entire world, for a chance to take on Zoom. She saw someone who (in all probability) strode straight into Turtle's cell and killed him without a second thought, who tore out of the building with a mere gun hoping that he might save Barry from the monster holding him by the neck, who upon further consideration, looked nothing at

They say that experience molds the face, and the life that was etched onto the face of the man did not reflect the man Dr. McGee had known, the man before and after the accident. It was this observation that stole Christina's words, more than anything else.

Finally, Barry spoke up, to the relief of everyone. "Sooo, you said you wanted an explanation?"

He disappeared in a fizzle of lighting then popped back into existence with his hands full of take-out to the Cisco's faint murmur of, "my man."

"We might be here awhile."

After the food was distributed, (and Harry and Cisco didn't fight over the pickles, for once) Caitlin spoke up. "So, how did you find out about Dr. Wells?"

So Dr. McGee old them everything. Seeing them in the diner, finding the Christmas photos and putting the pieces together about how a police report could have gotten a death so badly wrong. The story was punctuated by stray remarks from Harrison ("Idiots"), Cisco ("Huh. Our bad"), Caitlin ("You bet it's your bad," "Stay out of my pickles,"), and The Flash. ("Heh.")

To be perfectly honest, she wasn't sure what was odder-seeing Harrison Wells alive and out of a wheelchair or seeing Central City's most famous metahuman dip a fry into a vanilla shake.

After her story was done, Dr. Snow pulled out a file that had been sitting on her desk. She crossed the room and gave it to her. The file was old, light tan, and had the words STARLING CITY POLICE stamped across the cover.

With shaking hands, she opened the file. It wasn't very large, for a police report. A few mandatory photos and a short write-up. (X) was driving along (X) road at (X) time.

Even though she had never seen the report, she knew what it's contents would be. A short investigation into the car wreck that killed Tess Morgan and changed the man she once knew has her partner in scientific crime into a stone-cold killer. "What does this have to do with anything?"

Nervously, Mr. Ramon spoke up. "Me, and Joe, I mean, Detective West, went back to the scene of the accident." He swallowed. "And we found another body."

Well, that was unexpected. "What?"

Cisco nodded, and started talking faster, as if getting it out faster would help. "The body had been their for a while. Barry-our friend Barry, umm. Yeah. Barry, who works as a CSI, tested the teeth, DNA, did test on the cheese-skippers found on the body and confirmed without a shadow of the a doubt that the body was that of Harrison Wells."

No. That was impossible. Harrison Wells seemed to be standing right in front of her. The Harrison Wells was supposed to met his maker, or at least faked it, a few months ago, not years before. He had walked away from that car crash, hurt, devastated, but alive. No. He had cried at Tess's funeral. He tossed out everything he owned and moved to Central in a fit of grief. No. Mistakes in the forensic science process happen everyday. Weird was the new normal for Central, but that brand of weird wasn't present before the particle accelerator explosion.

It wasn't until Dr. Snow started forward, clearly concerned that she realized that some of that had been said aloud.

Then it clicked.

That niggling thought in the back of her head, that she knew was significant, fell into place. Suddenly, the picture began to become clearer. "In the police report about Mr. Allen's family. He described a man in a yellow suit. Now you're telling me that Harrison-my Harrison- never walked away from that car accident. Then the same man in yellow appears at the same time The Flash does, and is after the tachyon prototype, same as the Harrison Wells after the accident."

Their faces confirmed what she already knew. Somehow, the man in the yellow suit, had made it so that he looked like her Harrison Wells. And for some reason, the original had to die for it.

Immediately, the man who wore Harrison's face threw his hands up like he was afraid of being shot. "Not him."

Finally, she asked the million-dollar question. "So who are you?"

He didn't miss a beat. "I'm from another universe-a world parallel to yours. I'm Harrison Wells. Not the one that died fifteen years ago. Not the one that died in the singularity last spring. I came here to stop Zoom."

Her brain hurt, something that didn't happen very often. "What?"

The Flash, who had been relatively silent up until this point, attempted to clear up the timeline. "Your Harrison was killed by someone The Reverse Flash at the car wreck-he caused it, in fact. Then the Reverse Flash pretended to be Harrison Wells until the singularity opened. That's when the Reverse Flash-the man in the yellow suit, died." At this, his voice became for subdued. "The singularity connected this world to an infinite amount of others. Harry is from one of those worlds."

"You're from an alternate world?"

"Yes."

"Like, the multiverse theory?"

A single nod.

It was an odd feeling. One one hand, the scientist side of her was jumping for joy. Alternate worlds, alternate timelines, and time travel. The casual confirmation of what had for so long been nestled in dreams, present only in the minds of those who studied the theoretical, and what had only been real in fiction was shocking and liberating, all at once. Yet, the thin manilla folder in her hands quelled the excitement over the acknowledgement of the ideas she had been chasing for years. Harrison, her Harrison, was dead. Nora Allen was dead. The police officers and security guards were dead.

She had begun chasing down this Harry over his resemblance to her once best friend. She might not have gone so far if a little voice in the back of her head hadn't been telling her that something had been off about Harrison ever since he lost Tess. She couldn't help but feel that his death at the hands of the singularity simply meant that the case of Harrison Wells would never be solved.

Now it was. Now she knew.

Her Harrison never walked away from that car. He died with Tess, a victim of the success that he would never get to taste.

The man in front of her wasn't Harrison, just like the man that wore his face, answered to his name, and drank out of the mug she bought him wasn't him either.

She had what she came for. She didn't need to know anymore. She didn't come for answers about the hows, or why, or specifics. She knew that one day, she would probably want to time-travel herself and smack herself for not pressing for details about how everything was covered up, or how Mr. Allen fit into the entire picture. Right, now, though, right now, she was satisfied. No need to take advantage of the current situation.

Stiffly, she stood up, not quite knowing what to say. "Thank you, for everything. Truly. Thank you for telling me...for telling me everything."

The Flash started to get up, but Harrison-Harry-made a small wave at him, motioning him to stay put. "I'll walk you out."

"Thank you, Dr. Wells."

What she assumed was a rare smile touched his features. "Happy to."

They walked down the hallways, retracing the path that she and The Flash had taken nearly an hour earlier. When they got to the end of the hallway, Harry stuck out his hand. "Pleased to meet you, Dr. McGee."

She took his hand. "Do we know each other? On your earth, I mean."

The man nodded. "Yes. We do. And I can't say that your doppelganger is much like you at all."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No. It's not good either. It simply is," he said, pragmatically.

She dropped his hand. "I don't suppose you might want to discuss some of those differences sometime?"

His brow darkened a little at her words. "I'm not your old friend, or nemesis, or whatever he was. I'm my own person. You'll be disappointed if that's what you're looking for," he said, brusquely.

"I'm not saying that i won't ever compare you. I'm simply stating that it seems like we're supposed to know each other on whatever earth we're on."

"You realize how cheesy that was?"

"Oh, stuff it."

 **Thank goodness it's done. Weak ending, I know, but I have other ideas and didn't want to leave yet another story hanging. -Whitter**


End file.
